Happy New Year, Mistress: A Rachel and Alex Femdom Story (Rachel and Alex Femdom Stories Book 3) by Sienna LeBrun

Author:Sienna LeBrun [LeBrun, Sienna]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2020-12-26T00:00:00+00:00

When she put it that way.

It took an eon to get them laced up.

When Rachel was done with me, all the vulnerable, naughty bits were highlighted: chest and cock and balls and belly and especially my ass.

I was entirely silver, for the spray that made my hair stick up into a wavering quaff was also silver-tinted and sparkly.

“You look like an elf,” Rachel sighed. “Or a fairy.”

I felt like an awkward, sticky, nervous giant.

But Rachel pulled me by the hand into the bathroom to gawp at myself, and I could see something of what she saw.

Despite my height and what I might describe without being immodest as a decently muscular physique, the ensemble and the paint transformed me into something willowy and magical, much more like the women and Corey in barre class than I ever appeared in the actual class.

And, in fact, the strange get-up was an excellent disguise for the masquerade. I did not look like myself at all.

Which was something of a relief.

Rachel used the gloves I was wearing to secure my wrists together behind me, patted my afore-mentioned attention-seeking ass once, in a proprietary sort of way rather than an approving or erotic way, and pushed me out of the bathroom to prepare herself.

I waited a long time, standing in the heels with my ass sticking out, shifting from one hip to the other.

I had been right: the corset was itchy.

And me with no way to scratch.

But when Rachel emerged in her masquerade costume, she was a vision of erotic glory, every bit a gilded nymph.

She, too, was corseted, but hers was a delicate peach and ivory confection, and rose up to cup her breasts without completely concealing her nipples, which blushed behind ivory ruches.

She wore the type of old-fashioned stocking that rose to mid-thigh and was topped with rosy stitching and connected by a lacy strap to the corset above. She had delicate translucent panties that showed the shadow of hair I longed to bury my nose in at her crotch. Her skin was coated in a much subtler sheen than mine was, and gold instead of silver, and her hair had been curled and coiled into a crown, where little rosebuds of ivory and peach peaked out in a crown above her head.

Rachel had a real mask, not the mask she had drawn on my face, and it was embroidered with ivory ribbon roses and green ribbon leaves.

She twirled, scrutinizing herself in the mirror of the ugly hotel dresser, and I lifted my eyes enough to view the sweet dimples of her bottom between the panties and stockings, the pale freckles beneath the shimmer of her shoulders.

I felt breathless, mesmerized by her rare beauty, rendered utterly obedient by the sheer luxury of being wanted by someone as perfect and mystical as my mistress.

Rachel smiled at herself in the mirror, then turned to me, where I was trying to right my face into silence again. “You’re almost ready.”

I had thought I was ready.

But Rachel had

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